Chapter 29
Finley
“Shit,” I groan as I frantically move my takeout burrito bowl to my other hand so I’m able to dig through my bag. “No, no, no.”
I drop to the floor, setting everything down so I can dig through my bag. Fuck. How could I have forgotten my keys at the arena today of all days?
“Finley?” Beckett’s in his open doorway, a concerned look on his face. “Are you okay?”
“Yup,” I say, dropping my attention back to my bag. “Totally fine.”
“Oh, really? Is that why you keep mumbling curse words?”
I continue to rummage through my bag, my anxiety mounting with every second. “Yup. Very normal thing I do.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Huh. Weird that I haven’t noticed that quirk before. Maybe it’s a new habit, though,” he offers. “I haven’t seen much of you in the last two weeks.”
Because I have been actively avoiding him. Like “hide in a storage closet when I hear him walking down the halls” kind of avoiding him. Staying in my office until two or three in the morning.
I’ve never been so caught up on my work, even if today marks the first official day of April and the final sprint of our season.
I stand, pulling my backpack over my shoulders. I stare at the numbers on Kane’s door rather than meet his eyes. Because I’m weak. “I’ve been really busy lately. You know how it is.”
He nods slowly. “Sure. I know how it is.”
The way he says it makes it very clear he knows I’ve been avoiding him, and he knows why I’ve been avoiding him. Because he asked to kiss me. And I wanted to say yes. And somehow, I said no.
And I’m terrified I won’t have the willpower to say no again. Not that I think he’d ask again. But I might. And I can’t.
“Well, I’m headed back to the office,” I announce, turning to walk down the hall.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at the final event for The Great Yeti Challenge.
Go us!” I throw a fist in the air, Breakfast Club-style, and am immediately thankful my back is turned, so he can’t see the mortification on my face. What in the world was that?
“Finley,” Beckett calls after me. “You can’t go out in this.”
Wrong. I shouldn’t go out in this. It’s a literal blizzard outside. But there is a distinct difference between can’t and shouldn’t. I grew up in ice rinks and surviving the Michigan winters. I can make it back to the arena to get my keys. If it’s too bad, I’ll sleep there.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, still not turning around while I wait for the elevator.
“They’re calling for two feet of snow in the next twelve hours, plus it’s freezing outside.”
“I’ve got a coat,” I reply.
“They shut down the roads. It’s why you let us out of practice early.”
“It’s not that bad.” I stare at my distorted reflection in the silver doors of the elevator.
“Finley.”
“What are you doing?” I ask as Beckett comes to stand beside me.
“Convincing you not to get yourself killed.”
“My keys are at the arena.”
“Just stay with me.”
My gaze snaps to his, and I can see the sincerity in his offer. But the surge of need that shoots through my body tells me it’s a terrible idea. I shake my head.
“Queenie. Just… call the apartment manager and get them to let you in.”
Yes. It’s a great plan. I pull up their contact information, sighing in relief when a woman answers. Unfortunately, the news isn’t great.
“They’re on their way,” I lie cheerfully.
He scowls at me. “I heard her say they sent their staff home early today, too. Because it’s a blizzard, Fin!
You said so yourself when you cancelled practice for tomorrow and told everyone to just work out with whatever they’ve got at home.
We’re in the final stretch of the season: we both know you never would’ve made that call if it wasn’t serious. ”
“We don’t live as far away as some of the team does,” I argue, remembering the view from the building’s window of the dark night and the way the streetlight illuminated the snow falling sideways.
But there’s at least a chance I’ll make it to the arena.
I know I won’t make it through the night without making a bad decision with Beckett if I’m shut away with him while the world freezes into a winter wonderland.
“Fine,” Kane says. “I’ll go with you.”
I whirl around, my chest squeezing at the thought of him going out in the howling wind. “No! You’re injured. You can’t be out there.”
“If you can, I can. Just wait for me to go get my coat,” he demands.
“No. I’m fine.”
“You know it’s not safe out there, Fin. Please, if you can’t stay with me, let me go with you.”
I drop my head back, staring at the ceiling as I consider my options. Finally, I say, “Fine.”
Beckett stares at me long and hard before heading toward his door.
The elevator arrives while he’s still inside, and I walk in, frantically hitting the close door button.
I race to the front of the building when I get to the first floor, stopping just long enough to pull on my winter hat and stick my hands deep into my pockets.
I’m blasted by snow when the revolving door opens to the elements, and I strongly contemplate taking it for a full circle and hiding somewhere.
But I know that would lead me back to Beckett and the bad decisions I’m not sure I can avoid much longer.
Instead, I take a step out into the cold, pulling up my hood, tucking my chin, and squeezing my eyes to try to mitigate my skin exposure. I’m going to fucking freeze to death.
It’s definitely worse than it was twenty minutes ago, when I made the short trek from the restaurant next door, where I’d been hanging out since I told everyone to go home hours ago. I thought if I waited long enough, Beckett would assume I wasn’t coming home, and I could avoid him again tonight.
I’ve never been someone to run from my problems, but since he asked to kiss me over two weeks ago, I’ve become a master of avoidance.
Because I know what the alternative is.
Between the wind, the snow, and the darkness surrounding me, it’s slow going.
I’ve barely made it a block when I hear faint yelling behind me.
I turn around, squeezing my hands to try to bring warmth to them as I blink against the onslaught of snowflakes attacking my eyes.
Holding my hand up as a shield, I peer at the dark figure.
The one that appears to be in a fucking T-shirt.
“What are you doing?!” I scream. I know I should be more concerned that I’m approaching a crazy man in the snow, but at the same time, I’m certain it’s Beckett, coming after me after I left him behind.
I start to shout again, but a cold gust of wind blasts its way down my throat, causing all the air to leave my lungs. Gasping, I bend over, trying to escape the frigid air long enough to pull a lungful of oxygen into my body.
“Finley! Fuck. Finley! I’m coming!” I hear.
I make an I’m fine gesture with my hands, but it doesn’t stop the giant of a man from continuing his hard push toward me.
He’s going to fall over. He’s going to hurt his hip and never recover. And, for what? Me? I’m not worth ruining his career.
I’m pulled against his chest, finally able to breathe as his large frame blocks the wind from reaching me. He’s covered in snow, his eyelashes lined in white like a tree after a frost.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, banging my fist against his chest. “You’re going to die!”
“Then come back with me.”
I look into his eyes and see the truth: He’ll follow me if I keep going. But he knows it’s a terrible idea.
“Come on!” I pull of my scarf and hat and hand them to him.
He shakes his head. “You need them!”
“You need them, you fool!” I shout back. “Put them on, or I’m going to the arena.”
Beckett glares at me as if trying to decide how serious I am before grabbing the clothes from me. He shoves on the stocking cap and quickly wraps the scarf around his neck. “Happy now?”
I shake my head, then reach out and grab his hand, shoving my gloved one and his bare one into my pocket.
We trudge back in silence, the journey infinitely longer now that we’re heading into the wind. I peek at Beckett as he walks, never complaining, just lumbering forward through the blizzard.
No one else would’ve come after me.
No one.
“Are you okay?” he asks as soon as we’re in the lobby of our apartment building, dipping his head to look me in the eyes.
I nod before asking what I really need to know, “Why? Why did you come after me? And why don’t you have a coat on? What were you thinking?”
A smile tugs at the corner of his now-blue lips, as a drop of melting snow falls from his eyelashes.
“No, don’t tell me,” I say. “We’ve got to get you warm first.”
I rush to the elevator, and it opens immediately after I push the button. As soon as the doors close, I open my arms wide. “Come here.”
Beckett doesn’t hesitate, just slips his frozen hands under my coat, burying his face into my chest.
Even if it’s just to keep him warm, something about the contact feels right. Like the first time I hit my slap shot the way he taught me, and suddenly the coaches started looking at me like I belonged. Like the moment I’m watching film, and suddenly I know just what to do.
It’s clarity and comfort in the most terrifying way.
I reluctantly let go of him as the elevator reaches the twelfth floor and slowly follow him to his apartment.
He walks inside, holding the door open for me, but I can’t seem to move my feet past the threshold.
“Come on, Queenie,” Beckett teases despite the shivers wracking his body. “It’s just one night.”
Which is exactly what I’m excited about. And what I’m afraid of.
Taking a deep breath, I step into Beckett’s apartment, knowing I’m not strong enough to keep whatever is about to happen from happening.